


Breach

by rippergiles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Pining, Sharing a Bed, because they're NOT in love ha ha you thought!, there are some OCs from the cruise ship but they mostly exist for deancas to fool, this is canonverse but their jobs don’t really play a role so you can pretend it’s AU if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-01-16 18:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: Dean deserves a relaxing vacation. What he gets is six days with Cas in tight quarters, in the middle of the ocean, where his feelings for his best friend are getting more difficult to ignore.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after season 12, but the timeline isn’t super relevant. I plan on uploading a chapter a week, but the fic is complete, so don’t worry about it being abandoned. I hope you’ll consider this story an early holiday gift.
> 
> Endless thanks to @[chitaqua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chitaqua) for beta reading and letting me bounce ideas off of you for months. This fic is so much more polished with your edits and insight.

_ And good God, under starry skies we are lost  
And into the breach we got tossed  
And the water's coming in fast  
And oh my love remind me, what was it that I said?  
I can't help but pull the earth around me, to make my bed  
And oh my love remind me, what was it that I did?  
Did I drink too much?  
Am I losing touch?  
_ _Did I build this ship to wreck?_   
**-Florence and the Machine**

* * *

Dean always entered every giveaway he saw. Even for stuff he didn’t want. A fake name and his phone number in a jar by the cash register, an online entry form, it didn’t matter. He liked the gamble, the possibility, even if the best thing he’d ever gotten was a set of kitchen knives, some of which had been repurposed into hunting weapons. Which is how he found himself here, begging his brother to be his plus-one on a holiday cruise that seemed too good to be true.  
  
“You said you’d go with me!”  
  
Sam looked up from his laptop, staring at Dean with mild annoyance from his position on the bed. He gestured to his foot, wrapped with an ice pack and propped up on pillows. “That was before my ankle fell through the floor of a building. Sorry if I don’t enjoy the idea of navigating a cruise ship hobbling around and in pain.”  
  
“Christmas in the Caribbean, Sammy! What could be more restful than that?”  
  
“Uh... _ rest_.”  
  
Dean felt desperation sinking in. “Ship leaves tomorrow, man.”  
  
“So take Jack with you. I’m sure that would be a learning experience.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Dean said. “I’d look like some kind of creepy sugar daddy. And I’m _ not _ spending my vacation babysitting the kid.”  
  
Sam sighed. “What about Cas?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“What’s funny?” asked Cas from the doorway.  
  
Dean jumped. “What have I said about sneaking up like that?”  
  
Cas rolled his eyes. “Good for vampires, bad for Winchesters.”  
  
“Remember that cruise we told you about, Cas?” Sam said, a smug grin on his face as Dean's protest died on arrival. “Well, after what happened last night, I can’t really go. So Dean has an extra ticket. You interested?”  
  
Cas nodded. “A cruise sounds enjoyable.”

Dean rubbed his forehead with exasperation. “It’s a couples cruise, buddy.”

“Then why did you want to take Sam?”

Dean didn’t really have a good answer to that. “I’d.... I’d hate to miss our trademark Winchester Christmas.”

“Beer and bad TV movies?” Sam laughed. “We can do that any time, Dean. Go on the cruise. Take pictures so I can live vicariously.”  
  
He looked between Sam and Cas, helplessly outvoted. “I thought...Sam and I would just board the ship, pretending to be a couple, but I’d _ actually _ spend six days scoring with desperate housewives and cute activities directors.”

Cas squinted at him. “I’m not sure I enjoy the ethical implications of you inserting yourself into broken marriages, but there’s no reason the two of _ us _ couldn’t board together and then separate.”

Dean took a deep breath, then slowly nodded. “Sure. That could work.”


	2. Day 1

The last day of autumn was a mild one as they made the trek from Lebanon to the coast, even allowing for lowered windows as the air around them took on a salty breeze. Cas had remained silent for much of the drive, but had a lightness about him, casting frequent glances to Dean and smiling as the driver’s seat became the stage for a one-man karaoke show.  
  
When they reached the embarkation point, Dean shut the Impala’s back door as he hoisted his duffel bag out. He’d dressed for the occasion in sunglasses and a button-down red Hawaiian shirt, even leaving his worn boots in the backseat and trading them for sandals. In contrast, Cas stood in his regular attire, trenchcoat and all.  
  
Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Think that’ll look a bit out of place on a tropical getaway?”

Cas looked down, opening the coat slightly with a furrowed brow. “It’s what I wear.”

“Not this week, it’s not. I packed you some shirts and shorts.”  
  
They looked up at the gigantic vessel, tall enough to cast its shadow over the parking lot. The rolling sloshes of the waves made the base of a soundscape, layered with the voices of excited passengers and the calls of seagulls hoping to pilfer snacks from the crowd. After they made their way to the dock, Dean handed their boarding passes to a cheerful woman in a white visor to scan.  
  
“Hope you and your partner enjoy your romantic getaway!”  
  
Dean gave her an uneasy smile, his stomach squirming at the reminder of the cruise’s parameters. He tugged Cas behind him as they walked up the ramp onto the ship, where ropes of tinsel lined the handrail. They were greeted with a large wreath made of tropical flowers hanging from an archway placed over the entrance.  
  
They stepped aboard, observing the crowds of people milling around. A few were already taking their shirts off and diving into a massive pool in the center of the deck.  
  
“Ready for fun in the sun, Cas?”  
  
Castiel lifted his own bag and nodded toward Dean’s luggage. “We should probably find the room first and unload these.”  


* * *

As they stood shoulder to shoulder in the tiny room, staring at the one compact bed, Dean had only one thought: _ Of course_.

Cas broke the silence first. “I don’t _ need _ to sleep. I’ll just stay in...the chair.”  
  
The chair in question looked like the squeaky vinyl of hospital waiting rooms, and was in the corner, pointed toward the bed.

“And watch me all night? I don’t think so.”  
  
“I’m sure there will be plenty to do on the boat overnight, then,” Cas suggested, unusually perceptive of Dean’s discomfort. “I’ll stay out of your way.”  
  
“Right,” Dean said weakly. This was supposed to be a party boat, right? He’d find some chick and stay too busy to worry about spending time in close quarters with Cas.

Probably.  


* * *

  
  
“Dinner’s at 7:00 on the promenade deck,” Dean read from the pamphlet left on the bed. “They do the time slots by room, so we’ll have to dine together, but hey, all-you-can-eat crab legs!”  
  
“I’m going to go explore the ship.” Cas told him, turning to leave. “I’ll meet you there if I don’t see you before.”  
  
Dean caught him by the shoulder. “Nuh-uh. I told you, we’re getting you out of those clothes.”  
  
Cas stared at him for a moment before taking his trenchcoat off. He held out his hands as if to ask _Better?_  
  
Dean dug in his duffel bag and came out with a loose white linen shirt and khaki shorts, tossing them at Cas. “See how those fit.”  
  
Cas brought them into the tiny bathroom, struggling to turn around and shut the door behind him. When he emerged, Dean was momentarily speechless. Cas had worn variations of the same outfit for all the years they’d known each other. Stripped of the trenchcoat and suit, he looked...great. Not relaxed, exactly, but like he’d taken off a layer of armor.  
  
Castiel narrowed his eyes. “I’ll just...change back.”

“No!” Dean said, a little too forcefully. He cleared his throat. “Don’t. You look great.”  
  
Cas still looked dubious as he plucked at his shirt. “I feel like I’m not wearing anything.”

Dean chuckled. “You’re still wearing more than most of the people on this ship. It’s still bikini season on the Gulf!”  
  
Cas shrugged, a tiny smile emerging as he turned and left the cabin. Once he was alone, Dean exhaled. This week was going to be more difficult than he’d expected.  
  
Of course he’d looked at Cas before, wondering what those deep stares toward him meant, even if his self-preservation prevented him from thinking too much about it. Realizing how much the angel had changed and done for them (well, _ him _ , if Dean was being honest), it was easy to imagine feelings beneath the surface that were more than brotherly. In the moments when one of them was in danger, these feelings came closer to the fore, but inevitably, they’d overcome whatever the life threatening situation of the week was, and settle back into their groove. Spending plenty of time apart made it easier to ignore the tugs in Dean’s navel like what he’d just felt when Cas came out of the bathroom. A trip like this, not knowing anyone else onboard, practically shoved together at every turn...he was a little worried.  
  


* * *

“We’ve been working hard,” Dean said, melted butter dribbling out of the corner of his mouth as he stuffed himself with more crab meat. “We deserve this!”  
  
Cas stared at him from across the small table, lit candle flickering between them and casting shadows on their faces in the dimly lit restaurant. At every turn, this cruise was reminding them that it was designed for couples in love.

“You deserve a vacation,” Cas agreed. “You deserve so much more than the world has given you.”

Dean’s chewing slowed as his smile faltered. Cas always had a knack for uncomfortable truths.

“Uh, thanks, Cas,” he said once he’d swallowed. He gestured at the remaining crab legs between them. “Why don’t you eat up?”  
  
“You know I don’t need to—”  
  
“Who cares? They’re delicious, and more importantly, they’re endless. Eat.”  
  
Cas picked one up, holding the orange armor close to his face to observe, then sniffed it.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, taking Cas’ other hand and putting the metal cracker into it. He guided it around the crab leg, closing his own hand around Cas’ and squeezing until he heard the exterior armor _ snap _ . Dean removed his hand and found himself, worryingly, already missing the brief contact.  
  
“Now dig the meat out. With a fork, if you’re feeling dainty.”  
  
Castiel stuck his finger into the new leg hole, swirling it around and coming out with glistening white meat. He scooped it into his mouth, holding his lips around his finger as he slowly removed it, then licked the remaining juices off his lips.  
  
_ Sweet Jesus_.  
  


* * *

  
  
Once dinner ended, they found themselves walking along the ship’s promenade deck, letting the cool night air dance around them. Dean stopped, looking out at the setting sun on the water’s horizon, reds and yellows reflecting and melting into the deep blue.  
  
“Let’s take a picture,” he told Cas. “For Sam.”  
  
“Of the sunset?”  
  
“Of us in front of it,” Dean said, pulling out his phone and turning the camera to face them. Fitting two large men in a selfie was difficult enough without a sunset to consider, so he had little choice but to squeeze in quite close to Cas. He inhaled and could smell him, a sort of perpetually clean smell humans couldn’t achieve with mere showers.  
  
“Want me to take that for you?” a voice cut in, and Dean nearly dropped his phone. He put some distance back between himself and Cas, out of reflex.  
  
A woman and a man had stopped in front of them, the woman with her hand outstretched. Her deep red hair caught the last rays of the sun. “It’ll be easier to see the background from farther away.”  
  
“Right,” Dean said, embarrassed by how much her presence had caught him off guard. He handed her his phone.  
  
“Okay,” she laughed as she held it up. “Are you going to stand three feet apart, or act like you’re in love?”  
  
Cas met his eyes with a silent apology and came shuffling back. Dean put a tentative arm around Cas, then pulled him close.  
  
“Smile!” the woman chirped. Dean complied, squeezing Cas’ shoulder as he heard the shutter sound effect.  
  
“Thanks,” Dean told her as she handed the phone back. He let his arm slowly fall from around Cas.  
  
“No problem,” she said. “You guys are cute. I’m Kira Leigh. This is Andrew.”  
  
Her partner, who’d stood by silently up to this point, gave a little smile and wave. His shoulder length wavy hair seemed made for life on a boat.  
  
“I’m Dean, this is Cas.”  
  
“Sweet!” Kira Leigh said, bubbly to an extent Dean could not fathom matching. “Are you guys married?”  
  
Dean froze, looking at Cas to see if he would answer first. When Cas met him with a matching confused stare, Dean turned back to the couple and stammered “No, uh, not yet.”

Kira Leigh giggled, nodding at Cas. “Careful! You better lock this one down before someone else comes along.”  
  
Castiel squinted at her. “I don’t—”  
  
Dean moved in quickly before he could blow their cover. Cas looked down at Dean’s hand, which found itself affectionately placed on his chest. Dean cleared his throat. “Yes, he’s, uh. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”  
  
Cas’ face lit up, giving Dean a not-unfamiliar swooping feeling in his stomach. People flirted with Cas even more often than they did with Dean, but he never reacted with more than an eyeroll. At least, until now.  
  
“We were just headed to the casino,” Andrew spoke up, in a soft Irish lilt.  
  
Kira Leigh’s eyes widened. “Y’all want to join us? Could always use some company while I lose at blackjack.”  
  
Dean looked at Cas and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”  
  


* * *

  
Far from the debauchery he was expecting (and somewhat hoping for), the onboard casino seemed tame. Just a bunch of polite pairs giggling behind hands of cards and shuffling between tables in their sandals. The four of them, led by Kira Leigh, settled at a blackjack table after exchanging their betting money for chips. Dean leaned over to Cas as they were dealt in, placing one chip in front of each of them as their bets.  
  
“Don’t hit if you’re close to 21,” he muttered. “If you go over, you get nothing, but you only need to be high enough to beat the dealer.”  
  
Cas’ brow furrowed, but as that was something of a default expression for him, it didn’t serve as a warning that he was about to turn and ask Dean a question.  
  
“Hit wha—?”  
  
Dean’s lips, already close from whispering instructions in his ear, brushed Cas’ cheek as he turned. Dean barely resisted jerking away in a panic, which wouldn’t look very couple-y of them. He slowly eased his face away, and thought he saw a new, warmer tint to Castiel’s cheeks.  
  
“Apologies,” Cas mumbled. Dean waved him off, putting on a big smile for the others at the table.  
  
He’d chosen to sit next to Cas, but not staring at him all night would prove especially challenging if he couldn’t stop remembering the tickle of stubble under his lips. Dean cast his gaze around the casino, looking anywhere else.  
  
The couples that had seemed so innocent when they’d arrived appeared to be a bit less so upon closer inspection. At the craps table next to them, Dean could see a woman in a short dress nearly in the lap of her partner, whose hand was sneaking slowly into the gap between her slightly spread legs. Dean saw her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open slightly. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised to see the hand get swatted away, but instead, she gave the man a sultry look that made even Dean go hot behind the ears.  
  
He spun back around, his accidental foray into voyeurism doing nothing to help the tension he was already feeling.  
  
The dealer turned to Dean, and he realized he hadn’t even looked at his cards. He gave a quick scan of them— a ten of clubs and a two of diamonds. He made sure Cas was watching, trying to gesture toward the numbers and hoped Cas understood, because Dean was suddenly terrified at leaning in to whisper to him again.  
  
“Hit me,” Dean told the dealer. The dealer flipped another card his way, an eight of spades. With a total of twenty, Dean gestured to stay.  
  
Now it was Cas’ turn. The dealer gave him a king of spades and a two of hearts.  
  
“Whose hearts are those supposed to—?”  
  
Dean interrupted him with an overexaggerated laugh. “Ha-ha, good one, honey! You’ve got twelve, so you probably want to hit.” Dean tapped the table for him. The dealer placed a nine in front of Cas. Twenty-one.  
  
Kira Leigh clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Beginner’s luck!”  
  
Once she and Andrew had played their hands (Kira busted with a twenty-three), the dealer flipped his remaining card, adding a ten to the eight already on the table. Dean and Cas received chips to match their bet, and Andrew, who had a hand of eighteen to match the dealer’s, was exactly where he’d begun.  
  
“I think I’m gonna sit this hand out and get a drink,” Dean said. “Cas, you want anything?”  
  
Cas shook his head, but Kira Leigh stood from her seat. “Can I join you?”  
  
Dean shrugged, and they walked toward a small bar set up in the corner of the casino.  
  
“Whiskey, neat, please. And whatever she wants.”  
  
“Vodka cranberry, please,” Kira Leigh told the bartender as she started to pull money from her purse. “But you don’t have to pay for me.”  
  
Dean shook his head, holding up his new chip. “I’m ten bucks richer than when I walked in here, I might as well spend it buying a drink for a pretty lady.”  
  
She cocked an eyebrow. “Fair enough. Is Castiel okay with that?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t he—” Dean began. “Oh. Yeah. Don’t worry, a drink is just a drink.”  
  
She looked a little embarrassed as she was handed her cocktail. “Right. Of course.”  
  
There was a moment of silence as they both took sips from their drinks. The whiskey offered a soothing warmth to Dean’s throat and made him feel a tiny bit better about, well, everything.  
  
Kira Leigh cleared her throat. “It’s easy to see how much you two love each other.”  
  
Dean coughed a little in surprise and had to fight to swallow another gulp of liquor. “Yeah?”  
  
“We should all be so lucky.”  
  
“Nah. It’s easy to be us.” Dean bit his lip around a smile despite the fib. “We’re just a couple of idiots.”

She raised her glass. “To idiots in love, then.”  
  
He clinked glasses with her, and downed the remainder of his drink. He was too sober to examine that toast too closely.  
  


* * *

  
  
After shifting positions for what felt like the hundredth time, Dean looked at the clock, which gave his eyes a break from the ceiling. _1:37 AM_.  
  
He’d long since left Cas at the slot machines with a pile of quarters, telling him he was welcome to come back to their cabin if he ran out of entertainment. So far, no dice. Dean wondered now if Cas had even heard him; he’d been focused so intently on the spinning symbols, the hokey flashing lights. Dean wasn’t sure why he was even awake. He should be using this alone time to get some rest. No use waiting up for Cas. Even if he showed, they would only be facing the awkward bed situation again.  
  
Was he still at the machines? Or had he wandered off, observing other people and exploring every little facet of the ship? For all Dean knew, Cas could be in its belly, studying the machinery that was piloting it, marveling at the fruits of human ingenuity.  
  
He rolled onto his side, facing the door. The minutes without him dragged by, and eventually Dean gave up on pretending that he didn’t want Cas to walk through.


	3. Day 2

  
Dean’s face broke the surface of the water as he propelled himself from the bottom of the pool. Other swimmers laughed and splashed around him as he ran his hands over his hair and flung the excess water off. He took a look around at the sunbathers, noting several bikini-clad women with no husbands in sight.  
  
He began to swim to the edge of the pool nearest them when something else caught his eye. Laid out on a reclining pool chair with a paperback book was Cas, nearly unrecognizable in short blue swim trunks Dean had packed. The size was unintentional (they were the only pair Dean could dig up in the bunker that didn’t seem to belong to him or Sam), but they were doing Cas plenty of favors as the fabric gripped his thighs. Under the layers, Dean had always imagined Castiel as rather slender, pale, the Holy Tax Accountant. He found it hard not to stare once he realized that wasn’t the case. Cas was...fit. How was he tan when his legs never saw the sun?  
  
The night before, Dean had eventually fallen asleep, only to wake this morning to a note from Cas on the bedside table. _ Stopped in to change. Didn’t want to wake you_. Dean had tried to shake off the feeling he got thinking of Cas moving around him as he slept, maybe even undressing next to the bed. He hadn’t been particularly successful.  
  
Castiel looked up from his book as two guys sat on the chair next to him, one striking up conversation. They were young and attractive, and one wore a speedo with a cutoff white shirt that showed off his midriff. He leaned closer to Cas and casually touched his arm, then said something that made him laugh, a rare sight that made irritation itch under Dean’s skin. He only realized he’d frozen in place this whole time when someone slammed into him while trying to catch a beach ball bouncing around the pool. Had they been on a hunt, getting so distracted ogling Cas could mean them ending up werewolf chow. Shaking off the embarrassing image, Dean pulled himself out of the pool and started walking toward them.  
  
“Hey, uh, honey,” he said. “What’s going on?”  
  
Half of the strange duo looked up, his blond hair pushed down under a backwards cap that irritated Dean further. _ Douche. _ “Is this the lucky guy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, a small smile forming in spite of himself as he wondered what Cas had said about him. “I am.”

“Dean, your face is red. Are you wearing sunscreen?”

“No, I’m getting a tan.”

“You’re getting a _ burn_,” Cas admonished. He reached under his chair and tossed a small bottle to Dean. “Put this on.”

Dean rolled his eyes but complied, smearing white lotion across his face and chest. “Better?”

Cas stood up. “Turn around, you need to get your shoulders.”

Dean paused for a moment once he realized what Cas meant. “Oh, uh, I can get it.”

Cas ignored him, gripping him by the arm and rotating him away. Dean tensed up as Cas’ lotioned hands gently rubbed into his shoulders, taking his time on what should have been a perfunctory task.

“There.” Cas waited for him to turn back to face him, then gestured to the other man. “Jeff was just telling me about an event the ship is putting on this afternoon.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” the man who must be Jeff answered. “It’s kinda like that old game show, The Newlywed Game? But sudden death style. A bunch of couples start out, answering questions about each other. When you get a question wrong, you’re dropped from the game. Last couple standing wins.”  
  
“Wins what?” Dean asked.  
  
“Last night when Brian and I watched the first game, it was an excursion when we stop in Nassau,” Jeff said. “Swimming with dolphins or something. But it might be different today. We figure we have a shot at getting pretty far, but the more the merrier, right?”  
  
“So, you guys signing up?” asked Speedo Brian.  
  
Cas looked up at him, squinting against the sun before reaching under his pool chair and bringing out a bottle of water. A few drops of condensation flung off, making a trail from Cas’ chest as he brought it to his mouth, one finding its way into the dip in his clavicle. The corner of Dean’s mouth turned upward.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
After stopping by their cabin to switch out of their swimsuits (where Dean resolutely did _ not _ look at the gap Castiel left in the bathroom door as he changed), they got to the auditorium. A small stage was already full of at least twenty people of various ages and genders, paired off into goofy-looking chairs with red heart-shaped backs. Some of them had carried their drinks in with them, unwilling to stop the party. A few pairs seemed unconcerned with the game being organized and were nearly in each other’s laps, despite the small audience presence. Dean and Cas approached the registration table in front of the stage.  
  
“Hi!” chirped a staff member who was wearing an outfit that wouldn’t be out of place in a Village People performance. “I’m Eric, and I’m in charge of this game! I just need your names written here, and you need to decide which of you will write answers about themselves, and which of you will try to verbally match afterward.”  
  
“I’ll do the matching,” Cas said, before Dean could consider it. Cas lowered his voice and muttered in Dean’s ear, “I can only imagine most of the questions wouldn’t apply to a—to someone like me.”  
  
Dean shrugged. Eric flashed a larger-than-average smile at them and continued. “Alrighty then! Just get settled in one of the seats and wait for the show to begin.”  
  
They climbed the few stairs to get onto the stage, then picked a pair of seats close to the end of the line. He saw Jeff and Brian wave at them from several seats away, and gave a half-assed head nod in return. A few other couples settled around them as Dean tapped his foot nervously. The audience wasn’t full, but they were still there, and this weird public test of a relationship that didn’t technically exist suddenly seemed like a bad idea. He wondered what would happen if they just left now.  
  
“Cas, what do you say we—”  
  
“Good afternoon everyone!” boomed a voice over the speaker. Dean looked up to see a man walk onto the stage in a shiny purple tuxedo, one of the more horrifying things Dean had seen in his considerably distressing life. His makeup-caked face seemed glued in place. There was no way a gig hosting game shows on a cruise ship warranted that.  
  
“Welcome to our little contest, designed to put relationships to the test! My name is Lorne, and I will be your emcee!” the host continued, beaming. “Under each set of chairs, you will find a set of answer cards, markers, and a blindfold. One member of each team will write the answers to the questions found on each card. While you’re doing this, the other partner will be blindfolded so as to not see your answers. We will then ask the questions one by one and partners will answer them about their beloved, then we’ll turn your cards over and see if you’ve got a match! A wrong answer will eliminate you. We’ll keep asking until one couple is left standing! Does everyone understand?”  
The small crowd of couples on stage mumbled and nodded in general agreement.  
  
“Good. The prize you’re playing for today is unlimited alcohol added onto your cruise package! All you can drink for the rest of the trip— at the discretion of our bartenders, of course— we don’t want anyone going _ overboard_! Heyo!”  
  
There was a light smattering of laughter combined with a noticeable amount of groaning from the audience and the participants. Dean was too busy considering the prize to take note of the pun. _ That _ could certainly make things interesting.  
  
“Now, everyone retrieve your blindfold and tie it around your partner’s eyes.”  
  
Dean bent down, sweeping the items out from under their chairs. He stood up, carrying the blindfold, and stood behind Cas.  
  
“Close your eyes, buddy,” he said softly. Cas obeyed, and Dean pulled the black cloth around his face. “Is that too tight?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Dean began to tie the blindfold, trying not to focus on the texture of Cas’ hair under his fingertips. Once he’d finished, he circled back to his seat.  
  
“Great!” Lorne announced. “Now, read the questions on each card and write your answers. Please print large and legibly. Time’s a-tickin’!”  
  
Dean scanned the words on each card, smiling at some, wrinkling his brow at others. He wasted a few seconds looking up at Castiel, who sat silently under his blindfold, which was an image not great for Dean’s concentration. He’d barely finished writing on the last card when the host’s voice interrupted him.  
  
“Alright, teams, markers down, blindfolds off. Let’s get started!”  
  
Dean reached up to untie the blindfold at the same moment Cas himself did; the resulting brush of their fingers should not have sent a jolt up his arm, and yet. Dean dropped his hand and let Castiel finish. The little ruffle of his hair that the blindfold left behind made him look even more adorable, like when you slept in too late and the pillow had had its way with you. Dean took a deep breath; he’d really brought the image on himself of Cas on a pillow, tangled in sheets next to him.  
  
“First question,” Lorne announced, shaking Dean from his reverie. “What is your partner’s favorite movie?”  
  
He addressed the couple nearest to him, then moved down the line, cheers and groans moving in a wave toward Dean and Cas. By their turn, two other couples were already eliminated. Dean was fairly confident in this one; they’d watched it countless times together in the bunker. But there was still an inkling of worry when the host peered at Cas, prompting him for an answer.  
  
“The Lost Boys,” Cas said. Dean smiled, and some tension left his shoulders as he turned the card around to display a matching answer. A small cheer came from the crowd. Dean looked up to see Kira Leigh, seated alone in the front row with a sign that read “TEAM IDIOTS”. God knew where she got the glitter paint.  
  
The host moved on to the next pair, then the next question.  
  
“What is.... their favorite meal?”  
  
The question lost a few more teams, some losing out from only one part of the answer being wrong. Dean was mentally preparing himself to rise and exit the stage, but Castiel turned over his card to reveal an eerily detailed and perfectly correct answer: A burger, medium rare, with a beer to drink and pie for dessert.  
  
The next round came and went. “Most prized possession?”  
  
That one was a gimme. The Impala.  
  
“Though Dean often thinks of her as an extension of himself rather than an object,” Cas added, after revealing his answer. Dean shook his head in disbelief, since the exact same thought had run through his brain when answering, but he was grinning. They might actually have a shot at winning this.  
  
The more questions that passed, the more Dean started to wonder how closely he’d been watched all these years. From inane details like shoe size to things they almost lost out on because Dean barely knew how to answer (what Disney character _ was _ he most like?), Castiel knew everything. Couples around them dropped off until they were one of only two pairs, their opponents being Frat Boy Jeff and Speedo Brian. Dean narrowed his eyes at them, determined to beat them more than he was determined to win the prize.  
  
The host’s voice boomed. “It’s time for our final question. All participants will write their answers on the cards in front of them, and we will reveal all four cards at once. If both teams answer correctly, we will need to move into a lightning round.” He looked up at the two pairs, who nodded their understanding. “Now then: Who said ‘I love you’ first?”  
  
Dean thought carefully about how to answer this one. Given the circumstances, neither of them really had, at least not in the way the question intended. But Dean remembered Cas, bleeding out on the ground in that barn, looking at him when he said “I love you,” before looking at Sam and Mom and continuing with “I love all of you.” Dean had wondered, then, at being singled out, but had shoved it down like he did everything that wasn’t easy to address. But now, it was their only chance. He wrote down his answer and turned the card over. Castiel had already done the same.  
  
“Both teams are ready?” the host asked. “Reveal your answers!”  
  
Dean turned his card over, trying to quickly read Cas’ and the other team’s at the same time. Castiel’s said “Me” while Dean’s said “Cas”. Jeff and Brian...had each other’s names on the cards. A celebratory music cue started ringing out from the speakers above them. They’d won.

Dean threw his arms around Cas, squeezing him tightly and lifting him slightly off the ground as he shouted in victory. As their chests pressed together, it was hard to tell whether his heart or Cas’ was the one hammering between them. Maybe they were echoes, reverberating off one another before Dean loosened his arms and let Cas slip to the ground, now flush with even more of his body. They couldn’t have stayed like that for more than a second or two, but several conflicting instincts managed to root Dean to the spot during that time. Part of him stared at Cas’ lips, fighting an instinct to close the gap between their faces. The other part panicked with the instinct of how their embrace looked to everyone else. When he remembered they were supposed to be acting like this, it was too much for his brain to process and Dean awkwardly stumbled back from Cas, tearing his eyes away and smiling at the romper-clad activities director who was coming to get their information.

“Just give them your room number at any of the bars or restaurants, and the drinks will be free!” he told them, perky in the kind of way only a man wearing a fake sailor outfit could be expected to be.  
  
  


* * *

“Wooooo! Lower!!!”  
  
Dean arched his back a little more, inching his way under the limbo bar with millimeters between it and the skin of his nose. Cheers erupted around him as he cleared it and straightened himself on the other side. A gorgeous blonde he’d never seen before put a lei around his neck after he rose. He flashed her a smile, the kind he knew from experience could be described as ‘knee-weakening’.  
  
The Lido deck had become one big party, with loud music, party games, and a plethora of drunk, half-naked people both in and out of the pool. He looked back to the table he’d left Cas at, only to see that Cas wasn’t even watching his considerable limbo achievement, but instead stirring his drink and staring into the middle distance rather morosely.  
  
Dean approached the table, then clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Dude, you’re missing out! Check it out, I got lei’d!”  
  
Cas narrowed his eyes at the flowers. “Why?”  
  
“I dunno, I just won limbo and we’re on vacation?”  
  
“We’re in the Caribbean. Leis are customary in the Pacific islands, like Hawaii.”  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”  
  
Cas sighed. “No, I don’t suppose I am.”  
  
“Well, liven up a little,” he said, grabbing two shotglasses off of a passing tray and sliding one over. “We’re on vacation, baby!”  
  
“I don’t appreciate being compared to an infant.”  
  
Dean groaned. “Cas. You know it’s a term of endea—” He stopped short when Cas’ eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hang on, was that a joke?”  
  
“Always the tone of surprise.”

* * *

  
The addition of free alcohol to their cruise package still seemed like a great idea, three or four drinks ago. The table was littered with empty bowl-shaped glasses, their little paper umbrellas cast aside. As someone who usually drank beer and whiskey and little else, Dean wasn’t prepared for the amount of liquor that could be hidden in the fruity, sweet concoctions they’d been ordering all evening. Cas had humored him by drinking along, but of course booze didn’t affect him at nearly the rate it affected humans. Dean was starting to feel out of control, which was terrifying, but also liberating in a way. They were in a place without monsters or research or anything he needed to manage. Why shouldn’t he let go?  
  
He swayed a bit in his seat, surprised when he nearly bumped skulls with Cas; they’d inched steadily closer for the last hour, but his depth perception was a little off at the moment.  
  
“Sorry,” he slurred. “Didn’ see you there.”  
  
“It’s alright,” Cas answered, steadying Dean with a hand on his bicep. Dean was electrified by the touch, staring at Cas’ fingers on his bare arm as his mouth fell open slightly. A haze seemed to have taken residence in his brain, making it difficult to form words. When he looked back up, Cas’ eyes were trained on his own.  
  
Moments like this, that fell just short of romantic, always made Dean’s heart pick up speed. Usually it was rooted in anxiety, uncertainty if Cas was experiencing the same tension, if he was even capable of pathetic human feelings like Dean’s. Now, though...the looseness courtesy of his last piña colada steered his heartbeat toward excitement and anticipation rather than panic.  
  
“I’m glad you came with me instead of Sam,” Dean said slowly, every word thick in his throat.  
  
Cas smiled. “Of course. It’s been a relaxing few days.”  
  
“Not just relaxin’. Fun. I like spending time with you. Like this.”  
  
“I thought you said I wasn’t any fun?” Cas was smirking, honestly smirking, and it was almost too endearing to stand.  
  
“I guess I did.” Dean gave a nervous laugh. “But hey, when have I ever been right, right?”  
  
Castiel’s eyebrows grew ever so slightly closer together as he studied Dean, but his smile didn’t fall. Sometimes it made him feel like a zoo animal, but right now it felt like something close to affection.  
  
Cas leaned in. As their knees brushed, Dean gave in to the urge to put his hand on Cas’ thigh. To Castiel’s credit, he didn’t flinch. It wasn’t as if they _ had _ to act like they were in love all the time. He doubted the cruise employees would throw them overboard if they found out Dean and Cas weren’t actually a couple. But a part of Dean was enjoying having an excuse to touch him, look at him like this with a layer of protection removed. He could feel his nerve endings alight, prickling with possibility.  
  
A high-pitched squeal caught Cas’ attention; he looked behind himself just in time to see a drunken woman falling into the pool, causing a large splash and much laughter from the lookers-on.  
  
Cas stood up. “Is she okay?”  
  
“Huh?” asked Dean blearily. He’d been preoccupied with studying Cas’ stubbled jawline from behind. “Oh, jeez.”  
  
Castiel had appeared at the side of the pool, reaching in and helping pull the woman out. Mascara ran down her face, but otherwise she seemed no worse for wear, if rather wet.  
  
As he watched Cas tend to her, fetching a towel and making sure she was okay, Dean was faced again with a troublesome notion. Cas had often made him question things about himself, about their friendship, but the only conclusion he came to time and time again was the uncomfortable truth that he couldn’t voice, even to himself. The thing that resurfaced every time he saw Cas smile, or saw his eyes widen with concern, or every time he touched him...

In the years they’d known each other, it had become easy with Cas, a casual camaraderie unburdened by other feelings. But now Dean had made it so _ difficult_, hard to coexist without overanalyzing their every move. Truthfully, this had probably happened years ago, forced into dormancy by Dean’s refusal to let himself entertain the notion, to let himself feel. Every touch shared between them now brought turmoil, because he couldn’t tell Cas to _ stop,_ couldn’t take that from either of them, but it was particularly unfair when Dean wanted his hands all over, and never to pull apart. He’d looked at other men before, had flickers of attraction he’d snuffle out and quickly bury, but his feelings for Cas were far more, and getting impossible to ignore.  
  
The unspeakable fact snuck through his defenses, his mental blocks loosened by alcohol, and he could almost feel it make contact and send him spinning. He was in love with his best friend.  
  
He rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples, as if he could erase Cas from his thoughts, make this easy again. When he looked up again, the angel had reappeared at Dean’s side, his heroism quota apparently filled for the night.  
  
“It’s getting a bit late,” Cas said. The voices and faces around them seemed to fade; dark hair, blue eyes, a voice low and close to Dean’s ear were all that filled his senses. “Don’t you think we should head back?”  
  
Dean’s breath hitched against his will. They hadn’t spent the previous night together in the cabin, but it sounded like Cas was joining him now. He stood up, wobbling slightly, and Cas reached out to steady him again.  
  
“Go on,” Cas said. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The trouble with cruise ships was, with so much to do on board at all hours of the night, the television offerings were very sparse. After watching an unspeakably long infomercial for a stain remover, Dean gave up and clicked the power button on the remote.  
  
He heard the sink shut off in the bathroom, followed by Cas emerging in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Dean must have gotten through to him on the unnaturalness of wearing the same outfit all the time; if he hadn’t, he was sure Cas would have put his trenchcoat back on the moment he was off the ship’s deck.  
  
Cas sat lightly on the bed for a moment, only inches of his backside touching it as he bent over and replaced things in his luggage. He seemed to be giving Dean a wide berth, which was interesting since the two of them had practically walked back to the cabin arm in arm, even if by necessity.  
  
“Didn’t you want to change?”  
  
“Oh. Uh,” Dean looked down at his linen shirt and shorts. “This is pretty comfortable. I don’t really trust myself not to fall over in the bathroom if I try to swap into something else.” He chuckled. “That would be an embarrassing rescue to need, huh?”  
  
Castiel smiled. “I’ve rescued you from worse.”  
  
“I’ll give it to you, you got me there.”  
  
Cas glanced at the pillow next to Dean. “Can I…?”  
  
Dean moved to pull the covers down on that side, a bit too quickly to pass off as nonchalant, but he tried to salvage it with a shrug and “Be my guest.”  
  
Cas scooted himself up gingerly, as if he was afraid to disturb a sleeping partner. When he was finally settled, Dean could feel the warmth from his body join his own under the covers. A quick glance at Cas, so close, next to him in bed, left him lightheaded. He’d had _ way _ too much to drink.

Dean had spent years exercising some level of restraint with Cas. He hardly had to think about it anymore— holding himself back was automatic. Here and now, though, it was torture. Until lately, every impulse he’d had toward anything more than friendship had been easily brushed away, ignored in favor of their current hunt or the latest apocalypse. Now, with literally nothing between them, tension had given way to urgent want, a deep yearning for Cas to kiss him, hold him, undress him.  
  
Deep down, Dean was fairly confident that he wouldn’t be judged for thoughts like these, because he’d already gotten away with an astonishing number of bad decisions where Cas was involved. Still, he should be thankful for the relationship they already had, not be greedy for more. His remaining friendships were increasingly limited, and he couldn’t risk screwing one up just because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check.  
  
“Enjoying your cruise so far, Dean?” Cas’ head was on the pillow, turned toward him with such genuine contentment. If Dean had been standing, his knees might have collapsed.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean replied, in barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. We kicked ass today, didn’t we?”  
  
“I suppose we did. The questions weren’t particularly difficult.”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Dean scoffed. “Your powers of observation are like a superpower.”  
  
“Well, I am more than human,” Castiel said with a wink.  
  
It took everything in Dean’s power not to let out a whine. It was downright embarrassing to want someone so badly, to have so little control over how he felt.  
  
He forced himself to change the subject. “The ship is supposed to dock tomorrow. Did you want to spend a few hours on land?”  
  
Cas shrugged. “Or we could stay in. Up to you.”  
  
Those words sent Dean’s mind on a runaway spiral, a tangle of nerves squirming in his stomach. What did he mean, stay in? Stay here, in the cabin? _Stay here doing what?_  
  
Cas frowned, and Dean felt himself blush when he realized he’d spoken the last thought aloud.  
  
“Um. Whatever you want to do, like I said.”  
  
Whatever he wanted to do.  
  
He forced himself to meet Castiel’s gaze and hold it. “You mean that?”  
  
Cas cocked his head, which had the adorable side effect of looking like he was nuzzling into the pillow. Dean could have sworn Cas’ body inched closer to him as he did. “I mean everything I say, Dean.”  
  
They were so close together, Dean was certain his heartbeat was audible.  
  
“I want…” A balloon inflated somewhere around his navel. “This.”  
  
He leaned in, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to Cas’. A euphoric rush went through his body at the contact that felt years in the making.  
  
Cas tensed underneath him, then gripped Dean’s shoulder as he pulled himself away. “Dean.”  
  
“Oh god.” The balloon inside Dean didn’t deflate so much as pop, causing a visible flinch. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”  
  
“It’s...okay.” Cas gave him a pitying look, and he hated it more than he could bear. A hot surge of shame filled his stomach. Vomiting was not out of the realm of possibility. The brief ecstasy he’d felt was quickly giving way to pain, all twisted together in his chest. Of course he’d misread things. Of course Cas didn’t want him like that. He was stupid, so _ stupid_.  
  
“Dean? I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
“I just don’t think we should be doing this right now. You’re not...thinking straight.”  
  
He hadn’t been thinking at all. No, this wreck in progress had been steered by feelings alone, those damned, senseless things.  
  
“I didn’t mean anything,” Dean lied through his teeth. “I’ve just had too much to drink.”  
  
“That’s what I me—”  
  
“Forget it. It doesn't matter.” Dean turned to the lamp and switched it off. He flopped back down without turning back to face Cas. He couldn’t bear to look at him right now; he didn’t need Cas’ sympathy to make him feel even more pathetic. He wouldn’t get up and leave, as much as he wanted to put as much distance between them as possible, short of jumping overboard. It would only serve to show how upset he really was.  
  
Silence stretched between them for what felt like an eternity. The alcohol finally weighed on Dean’s eyelids, and he started to fade in and out of consciousness. Eventually Cas sighed and swung his legs out of bed. Dean could hear him rummaging in his luggage in the dark, then crossing to the door.  
  
_ Say something. _ Dean told himself. _Apologize. Or don’t. Just, something. Anything._  
  
The door into the hallway opened a crack and cast a sliver of light on the bed. Dean could hear Cas mumble something, but it didn’t completely register to him in his semi-conscious state.  
  
The door shut behind Cas, and Dean felt himself rouse a bit at the noise. He spent his last moments before sleep took him wondering how much of the last few minutes he’d hallucinated. How much he could force himself to forget.  
  



	4. Day 3

Dean blinked hard, trying to bring the room into focus. His head was pounding, and his mouth was dry, and it took a blissful thirty seconds for him to remember what happened.  
  
Cas wasn’t next to him. He wasn’t in the cabin at all. Dean supposed that was for the best. He wanted to delay that encounter for as long as possible.  
  
It took most of his willpower to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. As the water soaked his hair, he got small flashes from the night before, like a damn “previously on” montage from the soap opera of his life. The drinking, the affectionate touches, the kiss...Cas pushing him away.  
  
The mistake gnawed at him all morning. Dean hated how exhausting it must be to be around him. Too needy, too greedy once he was shown an ounce of affection and allowed his guard down an inch. The soap got his body clean, but it couldn’t wash away the grime he felt underneath, though he stayed under the spray until his skin began to prune.  
  
Finally stepping out, he slung a towel around his waist. He went to grab an outfit from the chest of drawers, but he was met with Castiel when he opened the bathroom door. He was entirely too close for comfort with Dean so wet and wearing so little.  
  
“Oh,” Cas said, eyes wide. He held a paper bag out to Dean. “I, uh, brought breakfast?”

Dean took it, peering inside to find a toasted everything bagel with cream cheese. He would have preferred a greasy fry-up to nurse his hangover, but this would do for now. The only course of action, he decided, was to act like everything was normal, and that he wasn’t standing half-naked in front of the man that rejected him ten hours ago.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
He crossed to the dresser, grabbing swim trunks and the first shirt he could find, and retreated back to the bathroom. Cas stepped out of his way without a word until after Dean had emerged fully clothed and finished his bagel.  
  
“The boat’s going to dock in a few minutes,” Cas told him. “Did you want to go ashore?”  
  
“Where at? If it’s not one of the islands from ‘Kokomo’, I’m not interested.”  
  
“I’m not familiar. We’re almost to Nassau.”  
  
As if on cue, the boat seemed to shift under their feet as it came to a stop. A loud horn sounded off several decks above them, announcing their arrival.   
  
Dean shrugged. “That’ll work.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
The two of them made their way to the off-ramp and walked down onto the dock. Immediately they were met with a display that had clearly been constructed for tourists: an archway bearing a WELCOME TO NASSAU banner before brightly-colored buildings, people offering to paint faces and braid hair, and souvenir shops as far as the eye could see. On the corner of the nearest street was a Santa Claus dressed in red swim trunks and sunglasses, posing for photos with children on a stationary surfboard, which was attached to a lone reindeer that looked like a repurposed hunting decoy.  
  
Cas looked at Dean as if he was wary of saying the wrong thing. “So, what did you—”  
  
“Hey,” Dean called out to someone who looked local, who was pulling a cooler with cold drinks for sale. “Which way to the nearest beach?”  
  
The woman looked up at him, stone-faced, then gestured vaguely to Dean’s right before continuing her route.  
  
Cas sighed. “You could have been a bit more polite.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I could be a lot of things.”  
  
Cas frowned at him. “Dean, I—”  
  
“I’ll see you later,” Dean said shortly, then took off down the boardwalk before Cas could respond. He knew he was acting childish, but he didn’t have the energy to pretend to be a mature adult at the moment. After putting some distance between them and catching sight of the beach, he risked a glance back to where he’d left Cas. He wasn’t there.  
  
Dean scoffed. It wasn’t like he wanted Cas to follow him or watch as he walked away, but the apparent complete lack of concern still stung a bit. As much as the thought of more booze nauseated him, when he saw an open-air bar on the edge of the beach, he parked himself on a stool.  
  
A group of young people–probably students on their winter break– were crowded around the corner of the bar, cheering as one of their own was hoisted onto it and laid across. She pulled her crop top up as one of her cohorts poured a shot of tequila into her navel before bending down and slurping it up. The girl squirmed and giggled, reminding Dean of the odd college party he’d crashed while on the road with his dad, and the girls that would lead him into dark corners or their sorority house bedrooms.  
  
“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender, a tall woman with long braided hair.  
  
“Uh,” Dean said, her address shaking him from watching the rowdy group. “Nothing right now, thanks.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to buy anything?”  
  
He licked his lips, considering whether drinking so early was a good idea. “Tell you what. Send a couple of shots to them, on me.” He put a bill on the bar, gesturing to the others. She took it, and pulled a tequila bottle and shot glasses to walk their way. Dean scooted back from the bar, and was a few steps away when a voice called out.  
  
“Hey, dude! Wanna take this shot?”  
  
Dean looked back, where the people were pouring tequila into the dip in a different girl’s clavicle. He smiled, but waved them off. He was getting too old for those kinds of games.  
  
“Come on!” the girl covered in tequila whined. She used her other arm to brush the sea-swept dark hair out of her eyes, being careful not to spill the liquid, then winked at Dean. Who knew what possessed him, maybe just the thought of flirting with someone who actually seemed receptive, but his feet dragged him back to the bar.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
Whooping and laughter came from the others as the girl nodded. Dean bent down and put his lips on her collarbone, where he could taste the ocean’s salt. She craned her neck to watch him, and a glimpse of her deep blue eyes tugged at something in his chest. He made quick work of the tequila and used his tongue to get the last drops.  
  
“Dean?”  
  
He jerked up, coughing a little as he inhaled some of the liquor rather than swallowed. Kira Leigh and Andrew were a few steps behind him on the sand, carrying towels and a large beach umbrella. She wore a long green tank top over her bikini, printed with a pickle in a top hat and monocle and the caption, _ I’m kind of a big dill_. Her small, round sunglasses didn’t hide her expression of intrigue.  
  
“Uh, hey,” Dean said, leaning against the bar in a failed attempt at acting casual. “How’s it going?”  
  
She turned to Andrew and pointed to a spot on the beach, then marched up to Dean while her partner carried the umbrella away.  
  
“It’s going. So, where’s Cas?” she asked, the slightest tinge of accusation slipping through.  
  
Dean cast a glance in either direction. “Somewhere around here.”  
  
“Uh-huh . What do you say you come lay out with us?”  
  
He knew a lecture was probably brewing, but followed her onto the beach. They found Andrew, huddled under the large umbrella he’d been carrying.  
  
“He’s practically allergic to the sun, poor thing,” Kira Leigh said. “A few minutes out of the shade and he fries.”  
  
She laid a towel out a few feet away from her partner and peeled off her shirt, then eased herself onto her stomach. Dean, who hadn’t had the forethought to bring a towel, kicked off his sandals and sat beside her, knowing he’d probably regret it later when sand had found its way into holes he didn’t know he had.  
  
“How’s your cruise going?” she asked him.  
  
“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly. Kira Leigh raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m glad to be on land for a few hours, though. I was starting to get cabin fever and imagine us going down like the _ Titanic_.”

She shrugged. “Never saw it.”  
  
Dean gaped at her. “You _what_?”  
  
“I was like, five!”  
  
Dean, who had been newly eighteen when the film released, felt himself aging into dust. “I bought a ticket to it, because I _could_. We snuck in a few times after that just to see Kate Winslet naked again, though.”  
  
She smirked. “Would have thought Leo was more your type.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “I’m full of surprises.”  
  
“Yeah, speaking of,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “What’s with the jailbait?”  
  
He winced. “Wasn’t my idea.”  
  
“Didn’t seem like you were protesting too forcefully.”  
  
“Yeah, well.” He looked at the water, unwilling to meet her gaze.  
  
Kira Leigh sighed. “Listen, it’s none of my business—”  
  
“You’re right, it’s not.”  
  
“_But,_” she steamed ahead. “Is something going on with you and Cas?”  
  
That was the trouble, he thought. There wasn’t anything going on. Not a damn thing.  
  
“We had a— a fight. I guess.”  
  
“So? Couples fight.”  
  
He sighed. Of course the two of them had had countless fights, usually having to do with their respective roles in any given supernatural crisis, but a misfire in romance of all things weighed on Dean so much heavier than any of it. His life had never been peaceful, but Cas got under his skin in a whole new way.  
  
“It’s just,” she resumed tentatively when he didn’t respond. “You two seemed so happy and attached at the hip when we met, and at the game show. Now he’s nowhere to be seen and you’re here doing body shots off of someone young enough to be your kid.”

_ Ouch_.  
  
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Dean stood up, shaking sand off himself. “We barely know each other, and you don’t know Cas and I’s relationship.”  
  
She raised her hands in surrender. “If I’m wrong, tell me to fuck off.”  
  
“Fine!” he snapped, stomping toward the water without another word.  
  
He knew she was right, that he wasn’t dealing well. It’s not as though he and Cas were actually together, though— that much had been made perfectly clear. He wasn’t going to hold himself to some moral code for a guy who wasn’t even interested. Staring out to the horizon, he felt his temper cool as endless clear water filled his field of vision.  
  
Dean looked down at his toes. They had sunk inches without him noticing, the wet sand pulled away with the rolling tide. Funny how easily your footing can get away from you when you let your mind get in the way, not even aware of the ground under your feet until it’s gone. People could be like that, too.  
  
He walked into the waves, let them swallow him up to his chest before dunking himself in the water, shirt and all.  
  
When he resurfaced, Dean turned onto his back, floating while small waves lapped at his face. The light breeze danced over the moisture and tickled his skin. The sounds of the crowd on the beach were muted by the water covering his ears, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Again.  
  
When you try not to think of something, it had an annoying tendency of being the only thing occupying space in your mind. So it was that Dean again saw Cas’ face next to him in bed, saw him get closer as Dean kissed him, saw his expression shift as Cas pulled away. He thought he’d learned that hoping for good things was useless. Clearly he was wrong. If the night leading up to their kiss felt like torture, it was nothing to the agony he was in now.  
  
He sighed, shaking his head as if he could erase the images in his mind like an Etch-a-Sketch. Only when he raised his head above water did he realize the waves had carried him quite far from the beach without him noticing. The people on the sand were too small for comfort, sending a twinge of anxiety through him as he began to paddle back.  
  
“Oh my god, slow down!”  
  
Dean had only a moment to process the screeching words and blur of color before his skull felt like it was caving in, the force of impact knocking him under the water. He thrashed around, trying to swim, but his limbs weren’t moving like they should, and he had lost all concept of up or down. He could feel water rush his lungs, panic truly setting in as his brain became oxygen-deprived.  
  
He couldn’t make sense of the shouting voices as he felt arms wrap around his chest and drag him painfully slowly toward light. Dean finally felt air on his face again, but still couldn’t seem to inhale properly as he was pulled along. The edges of his vision began to darken as he finally felt sand dragging under his feet.  
  
The world was swimming in and out of focus, blurry shapes crowding around him as he heard snatches of loud voices.  
  
“I didn’t see him until it was too late— our jet ski—”  
  
“That’s a lot of blood— someone help—”  
  
“Oh my god, Dean!” Finally, a voice he knew. “Andrew, go find him!”  
  
He heard nothing else before succumbing to the darkness.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The next thing he felt were hands on his face, an overwhelming fire on his skin as his body was filled with a wave of light. 

“Dean?” The familiar gruffness of the voice forced him to open his eyes.  
  
Blue eyes full of concern were inches from his own. Dean could see relief flood them as Cas’ fraught expression cracked into a smile. Before he could register much else, Dean was being pulled up, held close to Cas’ face with unexpected tenderness.  
  
“Cas?” Dean looked around, blinked a few times. Cas released him and the small crowd around them began to disperse, either relieved or slightly disappointed that they wouldn’t witness a tragic death today. Two couples stayed behind, staring at him in disbelief.  
  
Andrew stood behind Kira Leigh, comforting hands holding her arms. She was gaping at Dean down on the sand, her face wet with tears. “You— I saw you. How are you okay?”  
  
Dean looked at Cas. “What...what happened?”  
  
“There was an accident,” Cas said, then turned around to look at the other remaining couple.  
  
An older man and woman were looking at him with something close to terror. The man took a tiny step forward before speaking in a shaking voice. “You were out pretty far. We were riding our jet ski and… we tried to swerve, but we didn’t have enough time. We hit you.”  
  
Dean raised a hand to his head, remembering the impact. Cas must have just healed him in front of plenty of people. That might take some explaining.  
  
“Son, it looked...we thought…”  
  
Cas spoke up. “We should go.” He helped Dean to his feet, pulling his arm over Cas’ shoulders to stabilize him. He turned back to the couple. “I’ll take him to the ship’s sick bay to get checked out, but I think he’ll be okay.”  
  
Kira Leigh ran up before they could walk away. “Are you sure? I can’t believe he’s even upright.”  
  
Dean gave her a weak smile. “Never better.”  
  
She squeezed past Cas to throw her arms around him, nearly knocking him to the ground again. “You _ idiot_. What were you doing out there? And I’d just made you angry, and—”  
  
“Thank you,” Cas told her and Andrew, as he pulled Dean away and began to walk them back to the boardwalk. “For coming to find me.”  
  
  


* * *

Back in their cabin, Cas eased Dean onto the bed. “I can go find some food for you. Just stay in and relax.”  
  
“That’s okay, Cas.”  
  
“I bought a few things at the market where you left me,” Cas continued, ignoring him, “but when Andrew came running up, I dropped them.” He smiled. “Some stray probably got a nice dinner tonight.”  
  
“Well, at least someone’s enjoying it.”  
  
“I’ll bring you something else.”  
  
“Cas, I’m not hungry.”  
  
Cas turned to go anyway. “Any special requests?”  
  
“_Cas.” _ Dean caught his wrist. “I don’t want dinner. Nod to show me you understand.”  
  
He noticed the way Cas’ shoulders fell with a sigh before he nodded.  
  
“Good.” Dean dropped his hand. “Now, I’m going to find something to watch on TV. I can’t force you to stay, but if you’re dead set on being useful, I wouldn’t mind some company.”  
  
Cas reached out, cradling Dean’s face in a far more intimate way than his traditional two-finger healing tap. Dean leaned into the touch, holding back a whine in his throat.  
  
“You’re sure you’re okay?”  
  
“If your heavenly healing powers have begun to fail, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands.” Dean picked up the remote and clicked the TV on. “Come on, Cas, I’m fine.”  
  
Cas still looked dubious but circled the bed, pausing to kick off his shoes and carefully place them under it. He sat on top of the covers, stealing a quick glance at Dean before fixating on the television. It felt like there was a chasm between them; they sat infinitely wider apart than they’d been the night before. Dean supposed he should be grateful Cas stuck around at all.  
  
A reality show called _ Temptation Island _ was on, which felt a little on the nose after the day he had, but Dean didn’t have it in him to channel surf for something better. Before long, he found himself entranced by the seduction, the drama, the fighting between absurdly attractive couples. Cas held out for longer, but eventually even he started to predict what the contestants would do next, getting frustrated when they went against his wishes.  
  
When the episode ended and a news program began, they each reached for the remote between them. Their knuckles brushed, and both of them pulled back, Dean looking up at Cas only to find him resolutely looking at the remote. Dean reached for it again, turning the TV off before Cas’ gaze shifted to meet his.  
  
He immediately craved more contact, but Dean knew better than to reach out. If their skin met again, lingered for even a moment too long, there was no telling what he would do. It was hard enough to resist Cas’ pull before, a beautiful ethereal being in their corner, all bright eyes and fierce determination. As time went on, he’d learned to see Cas as more man than angel, which had the curious effect of making him more important to Dean than ever.  
  
It hit Dean again that he never should have kissed him, because now it was all he could think about. He’d finally breached the tension, gotten the tiniest taste of what he’d wanted for so long. The sting of Cas’ rejection was beginning to wane, and the urge to do it again was on the rise.


	5. Day 4

When Dean woke, he was alone. That was becoming a bit of a pattern.  
  
He rose and dressed in silence. When he emerged from the cabin and made his way to the upper decks, he was astonished to find he was up in time to catch the last rays of a golden sunrise on the horizon, Nassau far behind them. The ship wasn’t bustling yet. Only a few other early risers on deck, some holding coffee mugs, some arm-in-arm with their beloveds as they walked along.

Dean made his way to the ship’s largest dining hall, which boasted an impressive breakfast buffet upon his arrival. He grabbed a plate and piled it high, using sausage links and corners of toast to fortify his tower of eggs and hashbrowns. He was a downright engineer when it came to buffets. Second trips were for quitters.  
  
He settled at a table in the corner, looking through the large windows over the water. The water was choppy, with sunlight glinting off of every cresting wave. He’d barely begun his first mouthful of breakfast when a shadow fell over his table.  
  
“Is this seat taken?” Cas stood there, a grin on his face, clearly pleased with himself for the attempt at humor. Dean gestured to the open seat, a sarcastic smile forming around the eggs as he chewed.  
  
Cas had reverted to his suit and trenchcoat, and the familiarity reminded Dean of how unusual this trip had been for the two of them. Once they got back to monster hunting, the bunker, and Sam and Jack, they could feasibly get back to normal. The thought was comforting to Dean, even if he wasn’t sure it was true.  
  
They sat in silence as he ate, Cas staring out at the water. It didn’t have quite the awkward heaviness of the night before, and maybe even resembled something bordering on their usual comfortable companionship. Dean’s insides still curled tight when he thought about how much he wanted to touch the man across from him, and how he couldn’t, but at least there wasn’t that sharp, raw pain anymore when he looked at Cas. Things were tender now, like skin newly formed over a healing wound. Since having an angel on speed dial, many of Dean’s injuries were healed so quickly that he’d almost forgotten what this felt like.

The worst thing was how he couldn’t tell if Cas was dealing with any of the same conflict; the distress in his gut, the gnawed fingernails, reliving the kiss over and over again. Sometimes Dean caught him staring, only to avert his eyes. But most of the time Cas seemed all too willing to forget what Dean had done, pretend like things were normal. The message was clear: Dean had an out if he wanted it. He just wasn’t sure if he could bear going back to the way things had always been, now that he’d admitted his feelings to himself.  
  
“Where’d you go last night?” Dean asked, hoping he sounded casual.  
  
Cas didn’t look at him when he responded, instead focusing on the people milling on the deck below them. “You know, around.”  
  
“I don’t know, actually, that’s why I asked.”  
  
Cas turned then, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise, in contrast to his usual grouchy squint.  
  
“Are you finished eating?”  
  
Dean looked at the scraps left on his plate. “I guess, why?”  
  
“Come with me.” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him from the chair before dropping it quickly, as if Dean’s skin was searing hot.  
  
Cas led them out of the dining hall and down a large staircase to the deck below. He walked with purpose, zigzagging around obstacles and seeming to follow a familiar path into the interior of the ship, casting occasional glances back to check that Dean was still with him. They’d walked nearly the whole length of the boat when Cas turned under an awning, which led into an interior hallway.  
  
“Cas, where are we—?”  
  
Cas stopped suddenly in front of a double door, embossed with small golden letters reading CHAPEL.  
  
“Here,” he said.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You asked where I went last night. I went here.” He gestured at the door. “I’ve been coming here most of the time you haven’t seen me, actually.”

Dean looked at the door with uncertainty. Castiel held a finger to his lips as he crossed to the door, opened it, and peered in.

“It’s empty, come on.”

Dean followed him into a simple off-white room, with three pews on either side and a pair of prayer rugs on the floor behind them. There was an altar of sorts at the front with a variety of religions represented; some he recognized, some he didn’t. Cas sat in a pew on the right and slid down, making room for Dean to join him. 

“Why is this here?” Dean asked once he’d sat down.

“People still need their faith when they’re on vacation. Or maybe just a quiet place away from everything else.”

Dean didn’t quite meet his eye. “You needed a quiet place?”

Cas looked up. “Oh, no, not exactly. I’ve been listening to people while they pray here.”

“That’s a little creepy.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “They’re praying to God and the angels. I meet the criteria.”

Dean chuckled. “What do they pray for?”

A sad sort of smile crossed the angel’s face. “The normal things, mostly. Money, happiness. It’s remarkable how many of them, on a couples cruise, are in here alone, praying for love.”

Dean looked at him straight-on that time, but couldn’t hold it. Cas had so much heart, and all Dean did was make jokes. It was a miracle Cas even stuck around; even at his best, Dean didn’t deserve him.

Part of him wished he could talk about what happened, clear the air with Cas, without reliving how much it hurt, or opening himself up to get hurt again. But there was no way; his mortification at only the thought of bringing it up proved that those wounds would be easily reopened if he actually did. He couldn’t think of a way to perfect his phrasing without betraying his heart. Only he would find a way to make a vacation so fraught with inner conflict. Sometimes he really couldn’t win.

Cas seemed to understand enough to leave him alone with his thoughts for a while before putting a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Ready to get out of here?”

“What did you have in mind?”  
  


* * *

They took a walk down the deck, the wind in their hair taking on a chill.

“That’s something,” Dean said, holding up a hand to feel the air. “I keep forgetting it’s nearly Christmas. You think there’s a nativity scene onboard somewhere, little baby Jesus in an innertube?”

“Actually, the figure you know as Christ was born—”

Dean waved him off. “Will you let me have this?”

Cas fell silent as they passed an open door, glimmering lights and holiday music floating out from inside. They both peered in, seeing dozens of couples slow-dancing around tinsel-covered trees and glowing candles. A large table hugged the wall, covered with finger foods, desserts, and a large punch bowl.

“Some sort of ritual gathering…”

Dean sighed. “It’s just a Christmas party, Cas. Come on, let’s get out of—”

“Holiday photos! Photos of you and your beloved!”

A man had ambushed them, tugging Cas toward a starry backdrop set up against a nearby wall. A camera stood in front of it, ready to capture manufactured memories.

“We’re not interested,” Dean told him, grabbing Cas’ other arm.

“Come on!” the photographer persisted. “No couple leaves without a smile!”

Dean stared at him, stone-faced, but the man’s teeth remained on display as he urged the two of them in front of the backdrop.

“Perhaps we should just take the photo, then he’ll leave us alone,” Cas murmured.

Dean threw up his hands. “Fine!”

He stood next to Cas in front of the camera, giving the tiniest hint of a smile he thought he could get away with.

“Uh-uh.” The photographer shook his head, gesturing above Dean. He looked up, and his stomach lurched. A pointy, green sprig of mistletoe dangled a foot above them, tied to the ceiling with a red ribbon.

He turned back to the camera. “Just take the picture, man.”

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean pointed to the mistletoe. “We’re supposed to...to kiss.”

Cas’ eyes traveled to the wretched leaves. “I don’t understand.”

Dean’s heart was racing now, sweat forming on his neck as he looked down the barrel of the camera lens. It would look utterly bizarre to make a real run for it from the photographer rather than kiss his supposed partner, but the option was still front and center in his mind.

Before he could act either way, Cas interrupted his deer-in-headlights terror by leaning in and planting a gentle, chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek. He smiled despite himself and felt color flood his face. The camera clicked.

Before he knew it, the photographer was handing him a ticket. “You can buy prints at the station in the atrium.”

Dean barely heard him.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The rest of the day was full of mixed signals—Cas touching him, but not enough, looking at him, but with expressions he couldn’t read. It was driving Dean mad. Sometimes he missed the old days when Cas hadn’t yet learned how to hide what he was thinking. By the time the evening came, Dean was next to Cas in a hot tub, a calculated distance apart, with little idea, through his extended daze, of how they’d gotten there. Others walked by from time to time, but they were mostly, blessedly alone, their only other companionship a low-level constant hum that came from a nearby poolside bar. Dean held a glass of whiskey to his lips, then sat it down next to Cas’ trench coat, which lay piled in a heap on the deck.

“Can’t believe you brought that thing,” Dean said, shaking his head.

Cas shrugged. “You never know. I might need it.”

Dean laughed. “Sure.”

While the last few days weren't exactly the rest and relaxation Dean hoped for, being on vacation at all still felt strange. Foreign.

“What is it?” Cas asked.

Dean looked up, a wry smile on his face. “It’s just weird, you know, not expecting a monster around every corner.”

Cas leaned in, and Dean felt his skin prickle despite the water’s warmth. “I’ve got the angel blade in my coat, just in case.”

“Ah. So when you said ‘I might need it’...”

Cas clicked his tongue, pointing a finger at Dean. “Bingo.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, who knows, with my luck. You better hold onto it.”

“Dean, I’ve scanned this ship pretty extensively, I don’t actually think—”

“No, I mean it,” Dean said, his face turning serious. “My whole life is like that. The moment things seem to be going okay is the moment I need to worry. The next thing you know, everything is broken again.” He picked up his drink and downed the rest of it.  
  
“Change things if you aren’t happy,” Cas said gently. “It’s your life.”  
  
He laughed, a bitter sound. “Is it?”  
  
Dean always did everything to help others, save others. He couldn’t change things for himself without making the world worse off. His worth started and ended with his usefulness.

Cas studied him for a moment before replying. “What happens to you isn’t who you are.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah.” Cas arched an eyebrow at him. “Says me.”

Ice flooded his stomach as Dean realized that he’d turned what should have been an easy moment into something difficult. He was a self-fulfilling bad time.

“Look, Cas, I didn’t mean—”

Cas leaned in close, with a low voice that hadn’t been used between them in years. “You may forget, Dean, but I’ve seen you at your best and at your worst. I remade you from atoms. Those scars on your heart, in your head—those aren’t you.”   
  
Dean shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like being put on display so easily when he worked hard to keep his guard up. 

“You love,” Cas continued, his leg brushing Dean’s. “Wholly and completely. More than anyone I know.”  
  
Dean gnawed at his lip in silence. He got along fine with people, sure, but tried to keep it all surface level, at a distance. They couldn’t afford attachments on a hunter’s salary. Sometimes he slipped up, like with Kevin, or Charlie, or Cas. At best, he always ended up loving more than he could be loved in return. He knew he wasn’t worth the risk that even knowing him brought. But he wasn’t about to open that can of worms.  
  
“I love Sam more than anything,” he settled on, “but that’s different. We’re going on middle age and I think I’ll always have the instinct to protect my dumb little brother.”

“Is that why you wanted to take Sam instead of me?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Dean gulped, wishing he hadn’t finished his drink. “I guess I just thought it would be easier. All this coupley stuff, pretending…”

Cas frowned. “Easier? With your brother?”

“I didn’t say it made sense, alright?”

Cas leaned back to the edge of the hot tub with a sigh, his toned arms supporting his body as sweat rolled down his neck and onto his chest. Dean found himself grateful for the bubble jets surrounding them as his body responded in kind. There was only so much a man could take.

Cas sat up again, his face suddenly alert. “What’s that noise?”

“I don’t hear—”

“Shh.” Cas held a finger to Dean’s lips, too intimate, but barely grazed the soft skin before pulling away.

Dean tried to focus on the sounds around them instead. There was a tiny intermittent chirping, carrying over the sounds of people on the deck.

“A bird?”

Cas nodded. “Come on.”

He rose out of the water, his swimsuit clinging to him in ways Dean wasn’t prepared to have inches from his face. Dean had to carefully arrange his own suit as he made to follow, while Cas was already grabbing his coat and seeking out the source of the sound.

Ducking around poles and the occassional person, they ended up in an internal stairwell, its white-painted cement beginning to chip on the edges. The chirping was loud and echoing here, and Cas made short work of finding a tiny bird, nestled on a ridge in the corner. It recoiled when their faces appeared, but didn’t fly away. One of its wings stuck out at an odd angle, unable to return flush to its side.

“Looks like it’s hurt,” Dean whispered.

Cas nodded. “It must have landed on the boat when we were ashore and got stuck here.”

“Do you think it’s alone?”

“I’m not sure,” Cas said.

“Lonely _ and _trapped, jeez.” 

Cas looked at him with curiosity, then slowly moved his hand toward the bird, cupping it in his hand while it chirped in alarm. He cooed softly at it, pulling it close to his chest.

“Broken things can be fixed,” he said, opening his hands to show Dean the bird again, its wing repaired. A moment of clarity rushed Dean as it hit him all over again that he’d fallen so hard there should have been an audible_ thump_.  
  
His first encounters with angels had disabused him of any notion that they were charming entities full of love and miracles, but here Cas was, proving he was all that and more. Dean felt fingers dig into his heart. He had just convinced himself he might be able to live again with the scraps of affection he was allowed with Cas, only to now be proven that he really fucking couldn’t. He felt hot at the neck and nauseous. This had officially crossed into the territory of _too much_.

“I gotta...I’ll be right back,” Dean mumbled before scrambling away. He heard Cas’ questioning call after him, but didn’t stop on his trek back to the outer edge of the ship, holding himself up on the railings as he looked into the water below. The churning waves didn’t help his nausea, so he closed his eyes and pulled himself back upright, trying to focus on his center of gravity. By the time he was starting to feel semi-functional again, he could hear frantic footsteps approaching.

“There you are,” Cas said, reaching out. Dean flinched, and Cas dropped his hand with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

Dean stayed silent for a long moment, almost certainly too long to make his answer plausible. “No. Just...got a little seasick.”

If Cas thought his reply suspect, he was kind enough not to press the matter. A substantial wind began to pick up, howling through the ship’s balconies and corridors and biting at Dean’s still-wet skin and suit. A chill went through him, and he gripped his own arms as he shivered.

He barely had time to get out words of complaint before he felt the trenchcoat being gently placed around his shoulders.

“Uh, thanks,” he told Cas with a shaky grin as he pulled the coat tighter around him. Cas’ scent enveloped him, and it was actually more comforting than terrifying. “I’d better get back to the room and change.”

Cas nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Dean almost told him then, told him that what he wanted more than anything was for Cas to _ want _to follow him back to his bed. But ultimately, he shook his head.

“I’ll be okay. See you later, Cas.”  
  


* * *

  
  


_ There was Cas, wandering into the lake only to be swallowed by a writhing, inky black mass. _

_ Cas, beating him within an inch of his life in a crypt. _

_ Cas, bloody and limp in a chair in a stranger’s apartment, human and helpless and dead because Dean hadn’t been there in time. _

_ Cas, an angel blade protruding through his chest, the light leaving his eyes as he collapsed to the ground, his wings burnt out around him. _

Dean choked on air as he thrashed, the nightmare an unrelenting reel of some of the worst moments of his life.

“Shh,” came a whisper, lips softly grazing his ear as new weight caused the mattress to dip behind him.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, still fretful and twitching. He felt arms encircle him, hold him close until his heart began to calm.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you.”


	6. Day 5

Dean stirred, and it took a moment for his body to recognize anything unusual. The swelling below his waistband wasn’t unheard of. But the hand resting on his abdomen, inches above his erection? _That _was of concern. His eyes flew open as his brain launched into panic mode. What had happened last night? He had a vague recollection of nightmares, and Cas..._shit._ Dean thought Cas climbing into bed to comfort him had been just another dream. Clearly, he was wrong.

What were the odds he could get out of bed without disturbing Cas, sneak away, pretend they hadn’t woken up spooning, for fuck’s sake? As he tried to decide, Cas shifted behind him, hand dropping lower and hovering over Dean’s cock, his smallest finger grazing it just enough to make it twitch. He forced his eyes closed and willed it to stop, to no avail.

He had to do something. Dean gingerly took Cas’ hand in his own and began to lift it up and over his waist. The fingers flexed, gripping his own. He froze.

“Cas?” he whispered.

A grunt came from behind him, all rasp and gravel.

“Dean?”

Dean shifted away from Cas, keeping the covers over his waist as he turned to face him.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas was blinking, his hair tousled, looking at Dean with something that could be mistaken for affection.

They stared at each other, Dean seeing his own uncertainty reflected in Cas’ face. It was hard to deny now that something had fundamentally changed in the makeup of their relationship. The question was whether that something was a new layer of growth, like the rings on a tree, or some kind of decay—peeling, chipped, once-lovely wallpaper, revealing the ugliness beneath.

“You were...you seemed upset, in your sleep.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Bad dreams,” Dean said. “Sorry about that.”

Cas shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
A proper wintry wind prevented them from doing anything in the way of swimming or sunbathing. With the tentative shyness they’d exhibited toward each other since waking up, that probably hadn’t been in the cards anyway. They found themselves back in the casino for much of the morning, Dean sipping a Bloody Mary while he played poker. He’d learned his lesson of overindulgence a few nights before, but pacing himself on free cocktails was helping take the edge off, made him feel a little less desperation whenever he glanced over at the Cas at the slot machines. At least this, the least relaxing vacation known to man, was almost over.

“So what’s next?” Cas asked from over his shoulder, jerking him from his thoughts with an increased heart rate.

“What?”

“For today. Did you have anything else you wanted to do?”

“Oh. Well, there’s a Christmas Eve feast. I plan on stuffing my face until I can’t move.”

Cas gave him the expected eyeroll, but followed it up with a genuine smile. “Alright, let’s eat.”

* * *

  
  


The spread on the central table was truly something to behold. Every meat Dean could dream of eating, plentiful sides, and a selection of desserts that included multiple kinds of mouthwatering pie. He moved down the table, sampling a bit of everything and using Cas behind him to pick up what he couldn’t fit on his own plate. As they found seats, their plates clattered onto the table as gravity took its toll.

Cas eyed the food between them, dubious. “There’s no way you can consume all that.”

“Watch me,” Dean said, tucking a napkin in his collar as he dug in.

The next hour was sure to become one of Dean’s happier holiday memories. The meal was perfect, so delicious that he nearly proved Cas wrong. His own plate was nearly empty, and he’d taken several bites from Cas’ as well. He’d had a few glasses of a delicious spiced mead and was beginning to feel the pleasant looseness that came with drinking for fun rather than to numb. Earlier awkwardness forgotten, they spoke and laughed together in earnest for what felt like the first time since he’d kissed Cas. Any casual touches warmed his insides but didn’t cause him distress at needing more. Everything was going so well. Too well, as it turns out. The whole room gave a mighty lurch, and even Dean was caught off guard— he normally couldn't afford the ease that enveloped him that afternoon, but he should have known better than to think it would last. Drinks went tumbling and chairs were knocked over, causing a great deal of chatter and even a few squeals from the other passengers.

“What was that?” Cas asked.

As if in reply, a tone rang out over the speaker system, followed by a charming male voice that echoed around the room as the passengers quieted down.

“Hey folks, this is your Captain speaking. My apologies for the roughness just now, but we seem to be headed into some weather, and it might get worse. It’s a little late in the year for hurricanes, but smaller storms and tropical depressions can still crop up from time to time.” 

The people eating around them began to grumble around mouthfuls of food. Dean looked up at Cas with a shrug.

“We’re going to try to navigate around the worst of it,” the Captain continued, “but you may still experience some unpleasantness. It’s not fun, but there’s not much we can do except ride it out. We advise everyone to return to their cabins for a few hours. Maybe the rest of the night.”

“I was finished anyway,” Dean said as the announcement ended and tossed his napkin bib onto the table. “You might need to roll me back to the cabin, though.”

Cas rolled his eyes as they stood. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The walk back to their cabin wasn’t terribly pleasant, the ship unsteady under the feet of dozens of passengers being herded along the docks. One unfortunate soul was already leaning over the balcony, the motion causing seasickness to get the better of him as his partner patted his back.

As the two of them finally broke off from the crowd and made it to their cabin’s hallway, the ship pitched again and knocked them sideways. Dean’s back hit the wall and Cas’ body landed on his, knocking the breath out of his chest. Cas began to right himself before the ship shifted further still and held his weight, pinning them both to the wall. And _ oh _, there were those nerves again, climbing from his stomach and twisting around his heart as Cas’ leg slipped between his own. It was exceedingly difficult to regain his breath when those deep blue eyes were inches from yours, and— did they just flicker to Dean’s lips? He didn’t dare to hope, deciding instead that he’d imagined it.

“Sorry,” Cas said as the tilt finally softened and he was able to move away.

“It’s...alright,” Dean breathed.

Once they made their way to their cabin door and inside, Cas claimed the chair in the corner while Dean settled on the edge of the bed.

“Some vacation this turned out to be, huh?”

Cas frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was struck in the head by a _ jet ski_, for one. Now we’re stuck in here, and they’ll probably have to hand out barf bags soon if the storm doesn’t stop rocking the boat.” Dean scoffed a little. “_And _ I haven’t slept with any of the gorgeous women on the boat. I was hoping to be approaching double digits by now.”

Cas’ nose wrinkled and his lips grew thin.

“What’s that face?”  
  
Cas looked at him quickly, then away. “What do you think?” 

Dean almost couldn’t bear to let his hope swell, for that balloon to be popped yet again, but his guard was crumbling. He searched Cas’ face but found it inscrutable. Doubt knocked him down again.

“What?” he asked defensively. “Not like you care.”

Cas’ frown turned deeper, almost angry. “Of course I care.”

His words couldn’t mean what they sounded like. “You care about who I sleep with?”

“I care about what makes you happy,” Cas sighed. “If sleeping with a bunch of married women is what you want—”

Words tumbled out before Dean realized what he was saying. “I told you what I wanted.”

Cas’ face shifted slightly, a gentler understanding replacing the irritation. He stood up and sidled up to the bed, sitting beside Dean. “Tell me again.”  
  
Dean wasn’t prepared for that. “I…”

“You what?” Cas touched his thigh, and it sent vibrations to his core.  
  
Dean was trembling. He forced his eyes closed for a moment, trying to break the influence Cas’ stare had on him. When he opened them, Cas hadn’t budged, and he found himself drowning.

“I already get the best of you, Cas,” he muttered. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

“But you did.”  
  
Dean considered making a run for it then, braving any wind or rain outside to find the nearest bar to hunker down in, taking advantage of his unlimited alcohol again to ignore what was happening right now.

“I want _ you_, Cas. But I know you don’t feel the same, so I don’t know why we’re rehashing this.”  
  
Cas’ mouth dropped open slightly, then let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Dean. You didn’t hear what I said before I left? That night you kissed me.”  
  
“I didn’t understand.” He thought back, remembered Cas’ voice breaking through his alcohol-soaked semi-consciousness. He took a deep breath, unsure if he wanted an answer to what he had to ask. “What did you say?”  
  
Cas shook his head. “I said I could stand a little more waiting. I never wanted you to think I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?” He didn’t want to let himself believe it, because it couldn’t be right. 

Cas took a long pause before responding, and Dean wished more than anything that he could decipher what conflict lived within it.

“That I didn’t want you.”

“God_dammit _ Cas. You pushed me away, remember?”  
  
“You were drunk,” Cas replied, as if that explained everything. “I didn’t know if that was just some inebriated experiment to you—and then when you said it meant nothing—”  
  
“It meant something.” His breath hitched as he chanced a look downward, where Cas had his top teeth hooked around his lips in a bite. Dean exhaled, letting go of his last scrap of dignity. “It means...everything.”

And there it was.

All their little truths slipping through had widened the cracks wide enough for his dam of self-preservation to burst. 

Cas’ fingers grew tighter, squeezing Dean’s thigh as he shifted closer. The inches between them now were the longest he’d ever faced. Dean thought he may just stay there forever, caught in suspended animation as he took in Cas’ face, so close again.  
  
“Go on,” Cas whispered, with a yearning expression that matched what Dean felt.  
  
Time seemed to slow down even with his heart beating at double speed. Even with Cas’ blessing, closing the distance between their lips was an astonishingly difficult thing to do. One kiss, drunk and spontaneous, could be brushed aside. They could still move on from that, pretend it never happened. But two...a second kiss, sober and in earnest, that was something else entirely.  
  
Dean chose instead to embrace Cas, hold him tighter than he ever had, force himself to stop trembling. But when his face turned into Cas’ neck, he didn’t hesitate before placing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss just below his jaw, Cas’ stubble tickling his lips. Cas let out a small gasp and gripped Dean’s arms, pulling away, and Dean was immediately flooded again with the terror that he was being stopped, rejected again. Before his mind could get going on a proper spiral, Cas pulled them back together, their mouths crashing into each other with an intensity that made Dean lightheaded as the physical desire and emotional peak braided together tight inside him.

When his brain caught up, Dean kissed him back, tender and hesitant again. They broke apart and Castiel was beaming at him like a fool, filling his chest to bursting. He moved back in and tested the waters, teasing his tongue over Cas’ lips, and when they opened to let him in his world began to spin. He held Cas as their kisses deepened, somewhat to keep himself upright but mostly because he could, he finally fucking _ could_.

He placed kisses along Cas’ jawline and moved back to his throat, feeling the blood rushing under his lips at the pulse point. Cas responded by tilting his head and grazing his teeth along the curve of Dean’s ear.

“_Fuck_,” Dean groaned, and he could swear he felt Cas’ smile widen against his face.

Cas continued to torment him with teeth and tongue along his ears, his throat, the dip in his clavicle, barely pausing to work at the buttons on Dean’s linen shirt. His hands were forced to release their fistfuls of trenchcoat as Cas pushed Dean’s shirt over his shoulders and to the floor, letting cool air dance over his warm skin, heightening every sensation. He shrugged off the trenchcoat and let it fall onto the bed behind them.

Layers continued to peel off as they explored each other’s skin. When Cas’ jacket and shirt were gone and Dean was down to his boxers, Cas pulled him closer with a hand at the small of his back, then kissed him again, gripping Dean’s thighs as they rocked together for a moment. Cas backed off him and stood at the foot of the bed, the corner of his mouth quirking upward as Dean felt himself being surveyed. He was hard, anticipating what might follow. There was evidence straining against Cas’ zipper that the feeling was mutual, but Dean was stuck on his expression, the same intense look he’d been given a thousand times before, now seen for what it truly meant.

Dean reached for his bag, the gravity of the moment holding him in place as his fingers closed around a small bottle of lubricant. He was never one for chastity, didn’t exactly need to know much about any of the girls he’d fallen into bed with to have a good time, but this felt different. More loaded. For one thing, though it was feasibly safe with a human vessel, like it was with Anna, who knew what it was like to bang a fully-loaded angel, grace and all? But what’s more, this was _ Cas_. Cas who’d been on this journey with them for a decade and alive for millennia before, who had seen things on an unbelievable cosmic scale but still seemed to think Dean was worth more than a passing glance. Dean knew he was attractive and charming on the surface, but the idea that anyone who knew him so well and had seen him at his lowest would still want him was still a difficult concept to grasp.

The tiny cabin on a floating tourist trap, wholly unremarkable, seemed unfit for such an occasion. But as he was having trouble taking his eyes off the heavenly body in front of him, he supposed the surroundings hardly mattered anyway.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked him. “Is this okay?”

Dean sat back up but could barely speak, only managing a “Yeah,” as he nodded fervently, enraptured by the lines of Cas’ hips leading into his pants. He couldn’t resist diving forward into him, his nose trailing down the sharp lines before he let his tongue dart out and trace them, earning a gravelly moan in response. Dean reached up and undid Cas’ belt, removing it slowly as he stared up into his return gaze. Pants and boxers followed, and there he was, vibrant and beautiful and wholly Cas. Dean’s eyes roamed over his body, firmer and more tan than his own, the curves of Cas’ ass and thighs making his mouth go slack. Certain things about Cas always made Dean’s heart pick up speed. Tonight, he felt it falter, a tiny boat on an uneven sea, with little warning as to what would cause it to pitch and toss next.

“Cas,” Dean murmured his name like a prayer. The growl of his own name in response made him feel anything but holy.

Cas kissed him again and lowered him onto the bed, laying him on top of the discarded trenchcoat before slowly removing Dean’s boxers, letting his fingers run the length of Dean’s legs until the last article of clothing was out of sight. He kissed along the inside of Dean’s thighs as he moved back up his body, not giving him the opportunity for insecurity as the last of his flesh was laid bare. He unconsciously raised his hips to meet Cas’ face, and was rewarded with tiny teases of tongue along his shaft that stole his breath. 

When they were face to face again, Cas helped Dean wrap his legs around his waist. Dean raised his hand to touch him, only to have it linked with Cas’ own, then pressed into the pillow above his head as Cas leaned down, staring with a new level of intensity before kissing down Dean’s neck and onto his chest. His other hand reached down to stroke Dean, who immediately let out an undignified whimper as he clutched their intertwined fingers tighter.

Cas moved gently with him, murmuring admirations both innocent and filthy in Dean’s ear, pulling his back into an arch as he pushed into him, first with slick fingers and then himself. This was all new to Dean, but all his anxiety about the act fell away as they moved together, rolling with the motions of the ship beneath them. How could he ever have thought that this would be scary, this feeling of finally coming home after the longest day? Cas was holding him like he was precious even as he made stars dance on the edge of Dean’s vision with each thrust, knotting his fingers in his hair as Dean cried out.

The cabin’s lights began to dim and flicker as Cas rolled his hips, bringing his lips to Dean’s and moaning into his mouth as he carried them both over the edge.


	7. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I posted this fic on my social media today so have gained a few new readers and decided to go ahead and post this final chapter (plus an epilogue) a few days early. Thanks so much for reading this fic, especially those of you who have taken the time to comment or message me. I had a great time writing it and am loving experiencing it all again through your eyes.  
I hope you have a wonderful holiday season, or whenever you're reading this!

Dean woke up in the same embrace that had brought him panic just yesterday. Today, it made him smile. Last night hadn’t been a dream. He turned over, coming face to face with open blue eyes, happy little crinkles at their corners threatening to melt him right then and there.  
  
“Hello, Dean.”

Oh, it wasn’t fair. He didn’t even have morning breath.   
  
“Merry Christmas, Cas.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
As they brushed their teeth side by side in the tiny cabin bathroom, it was strange to remember just how uncomfortable it felt just days ago, with each of them getting ready behind a closed door. There was really no need for them to cram themselves in at the same time, but Dean felt compelled to stay by Cas’ side that morning, and Cas hadn’t objected. 

When they’d dressed (it was so strange how Dean no longer had to limit his moments staring at Castiel; he apparently now had an open invitation to ogle), they made their way to the upper decks for an early swim. They were surprised to see a dock, land, and buildings off the side of the ship, though not the port they’d departed from nearly a week ago.

“Where are we?” Dean asked the ship employee stationed at the ramp leading off the boat.

“Mexico,” she replied. “Just outside of Tampico. The captain had to make an unscheduled stop overnight due to the storm, but we’re not too far from the border, so we should be back tonight on schedule.”

“We’re allowed to leave?”

“As long as you’re back before 3.”

Dean looked at Cas and shrugged as he tossed his towel over his shoulder. “Works for me.”

* * *

  
  


Most of Christmas Day was spent on the beach, their wet skin sticking to each other with every touch after surreptitious fondling among the waves. Cas was helping rub sunscreen onto Dean’s shoulders again, both able to properly enjoy it this time. Dean still couldn’t believe his luck. It was so nice, being affectionate even when eyes weren’t on them. No more pretending. His body held a satisfying soreness from the night before, but tiny worries still dug at the back of Dean’s mind.

Things felt close to what they’d once been, but the comfort of being with each other came with more ease, more unabashed smiling now. Was this what it was going to be like? Having Cas not as a friend or a brother, but something else yet to be named that took up space in his heart and in his bed. He didn’t feel regret, never that, but fear was creeping back, no longer staved off by waves of ecstasy at finally having him like this by his side. Dean had wanted this for so long, never expecting it to happen, hiding his desire even from himself. Now that they were here, he was a little lost. He’d never planned this far.

They could hear noises of sloppy contentment coming from a kissing couple several feet away; as they lay back on the towel and their limbs intertwined it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other began. Dean caught Cas smiling at them and voiced his reaction before he could think better of it.

“Do you think we’ll ever be like that?”

Cas turned back to him, eyes squinting against the sun. “Is that a proposition or a concern?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I’m just not sure what happens next.”

“Next?”

“You know, now that we’re...whatever we are.”

Cas took Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over it, trailing grains of sand over his skin. “What do you want to happen?”

“What I want feels kinda irrelevant,” Dean huffed. “I mean, our whole lives have been part of these giant heavenly prophecies, and our jobs mean that we matter in the grand scheme of things, but this personal stuff… I’m just not good at it. Hell, we wouldn’t have even met if you hadn’t been ordained by the heavens to come save me or whatever.”

“That’s...correct,” Cas conceded. “But that was many years ago, Dean. And I don’t think you’ve forgotten all that’s happened between us since.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his eyes tracing the lines of Cas’ face and chest, both golden in the midday sun. He wanted to kiss his mouth closed, stop talking about all this, pretend he was someone else, someone functional. 

“Forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” Cas squeezed his hand. "_You _ matter. I don’t mean to the world. I mean to me.”

Dean supposed that had to be true. Cas was one of the only presences in his life— certainly the only one left, besides maybe Sam— who didn’t seem to expect anything from him, who stuck around just _ because_.

“You make me want to be good,” Dean said, not meeting Cas’ eyes as his toes dug into the sand. “Not just useful.”

Here he was. The perpetual brave little soldier, talking about things that scared him. What had Cas done to him?

“You _ are _ good. Fundamentally so. Why do you have so much shame about that?”

Dean scoffed, but he knew Cas was right. Shame was the core around which Dean had been built, ever since he was a kid.

“I’m just...I’m scared, man.”

“Of what?”

Dean thought _ he _ could commit to people, commit to Cas, but with few exceptions Dean had never been the type people commit _ to _. A fun night, then gone from his bed (or his car, or her couch) by morning. But this? This mattered, and he didn’t want to screw it up.

“I’m terrified of losing you again,” he whispered, then let out a breathy laugh. This wasn’t the kind of conversation one tended to have in swim trunks. Apparently sleeping with Cas didn’t make Dean any less of a mess. “Isn’t that great? I get everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m already bracing myself to lose it.”

Cas smiled at him. “I can’t guarantee that some terrible thing won’t happen to us down the road.”

“Gee, Cas, you really know how to make a guy feel better.”

“But I do know I’ll never leave you. I’m here, as long as you’ll have me.”

So few people had ever been so tender, so direct with Dean, that he had to fight the threat of tears rising in his eyes. All his scars, inside and out, didn’t seem to matter when Cas looked at him. How had he ever thought otherwise?

“I can work with that,” Dean said, clapping Cas on the shoulder, then letting his arm rest there. “But this could be a disaster.”

“It could,” Cas agreed. “But when has that ever stopped us from doing something?”

“We wasted so much time,” Dean sighed. “We’re _ idiots_.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” came a familiar voice as a shadow fell over them. Kira Leigh stood next to them in the sand, Andrew behind her in a wide-brimmed hat. She grinned and looked down at Dean. “You feeling better?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t reach out.”

She shrugged. “You were dealing with your own stuff.” Her eyes landed on Dean and Cas’ hands, still intertwined in the sand. “Just glad to see you’re okay.”

Dean smiled. “Better than okay.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The rest of their day ashore was spent together, Kira Leigh wasting no time in recruiting Dean and Cas to help bury Andrew in the sand. When the time came to return to the boat, Dean exchanged numbers with her and gave her a long hug, hoping it could communicate his thankfulness for her unwitting role in his fake-turned-real relationship with Cas.

“You know we’re getting on the same boat, right?” she jibed as she turned to ascend the ramp.

Jingly Christmas music played across the crowded decks as the ship departed the shore, poking at something in Dean’s memory.

“I have to go grab something,” he said suddenly. “I’ll meet you in our cabin, okay?”

He kissed Cas, a quick peck that nonetheless left them both smiling ear to ear, then let his fingers trail down Cas’ bare arm before backing away. Dean didn’t think it would be easy to fit two people in the tiny shower stall in their cabin’s bathroom, but it might be worth a try.

  
  


* * *

  
  
Several hours passed without the two of them feeling the need to leave their cabin, but eventually it became necessary for them to repack and disembark as the ship returned to where they’d boarded it. Night had come, but Dean was quite used to long hours in the dark, so they intended on departing immediately and driving straight through until they were home. He thought of Cas’ room in the bunker and wondered if it would be abandoned in favor of his own. Dean supposed they’d have plenty of time to figure all that out.

He would still have to contend with thinking of himself as damaged goods, but Dean was starting to understand that damaged didn’t necessarily mean unsalvageable. Dean was cracked, from all of life’s traumas chipping away at him, but nothing glue and a little tenderness couldn’t fix. Cas seemed to think he was worth the effort, and he trusted Cas. They were both complete, and deserving of love. So, so much.

Cas shut the trunk and slid into the passenger seat, looking at Dean as he shut the door. Dean turned the keys in the ignition then let his hand fall into Cas’ lap, fingers covering his own as they pulled out of the parking lot and into the night.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is by the incredible [Elena](https://purgatory-jar.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for this beautiful imagining of Dean and Cas on their ship of dreams.


	8. Epilogue

“It’ll take a while for Sam and Jack to get used to this,” Dean said, lowering his voice as he opened the door. “So let’s not overwhelm them by being too lovey-dovey right off the bat, okay?”  
  
He inhaled deeply as they descended the stairs into the map room, enjoying the return to the bunker’s familiar smell. It seemed to be exactly as they left it, but the sense of home resonated with him in a different way now.

“Anybody home?” he called out. 

“I’m in the kitchen!” came Sam’s reply, and as they followed it Dean began to smell the evidence of breakfast. He turned to Cas with a gleeful grin and dropped his bag in the middle of the library, rushing toward the kitchen. Cas smiled and fell in step behind him, though at a much more patient pace.

Stepping into the kitchen, he found Sam at the stove, flipping strips of bacon. Jack was at the table in his pajamas, trying to fit a larger bite of pancakes than was wise into his mouth.

“We’co’ bac’!” Jack said, grinning around his mouthful.

Sam chuckled as he loaded the bacon onto a plate. “I was hoping you guys would make it back for breakfast. Perfect timing.”

“Hell yeah,” Dean said. “I’ll definitely need a nap soon, but my priorities are straight. How was your Christmas?”

“Nothing special. I turned on the Christmas Story marathon and I think Jack has it nearly memorized now. How was your cruise?”

He felt Cas put a hand in the small of his back. A blush tinted Dean’s cheeks. “Uh, you know. Wet and wild.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Looks like you got some sun.”

“Heh. Guess so,” Dean chuckled. “Listen, I’ve gotta pee like a racehorse. I’ll be right back for breakfast. Don’t let the kid eat it all.”

* * *

  
  
Dean doubled back to the library to retrieve his bag after leaving the bathroom. Once he reached his room he tossed his bag onto his bed and kicked off his shoes before returning to the kitchen. He caught Cas in the hallway right outside.

“You gonna eat with us, Cas?”

“Of course.”

Dean smiled. “Thought you might be sick of me by now.”

Cas raised an eyebrow, and before he knew it Dean was being guided back against the wall, under Cas’ weight again as he gave Dean a kiss that said he was very much  _ not _ sick of him. Dean groaned, running his hands under Cas’ coat and gripping his ass, pulling him closer still as his tongue parted his lips.

The noise of someone clearing their throat made them jump apart. Sam was leaning out of the kitchen doorway, smirking.

“Hey, Sammy, uh—” Dean began frantically.

Sam rolled his eyes. “How many pancakes do you want?”

* * *

  
  


After filling up on breakfast, Dean retreated to his bedroom and began to unpack. Most of his clothes (and his still-damp swimsuit) went directly into the washer, so the remaining items in his bag were very few. From his duffel’s side pocket he pulled out a photo, framed by a cheesy border of Christmas lights. His eyes were wide, and his smile was awkward, but the affection on Cas’ smiling face, eyes closed as he gently pressed his lips to Dean’s cheek under the mistletoe, made it well worth getting an overpriced print. He knew what he wanted now, and the image was a reminder of what he was allowed to hope for. Dean propped the picture up on his bedside table and then flopped onto his bed, leaving the door open in invitation.    
  
  



End file.
